Cass stared at her reflection in the mirror, the makeup brush frozen mid-air. She'd spent the last twenty minutes meticulously applying her makeup—an unusual effort for someone who usually barely bothered. But tonight was different.
Uriel had given her two simple instructions: wear something nice and don't be late. Yet, as she stood there, studying herself, a knot of anxiety coiled tighter in her stomach. She had no idea what to expect. From the party. From Uriel. What would it be like? Would there be other vampires there? Would they know she was a werewolf? Could they sense it—her half-blood nature that she'd spent her life hiding? Her skin prickled at the thought.
But it was the uncertainty about Uriel that unsettled her the most. She didn't really know him. They'd spent hours talking, teasing, threatening and testing each other, but there were still too many gaps, too many mysteries. His eye was always guarded, and his motives… ambiguous at best. He was Uriel Serpov, the billionaire model. Uriel Serpov, the shado head of Chërnaya Gidra. Dangerous. Powerful. Unpredictable.
Cass sighed, pulling her dress over her head, the black satin clinging to her curves as she adjusted it over her hips. She slipped into her heels, grabbed her purse, and scribbled a quick note for her father to feed Peppercorn. He didn't talk to her anymore, but at least the cat wouldn't starve in her absence.
The drive through the woods felt longer than it should have, every twist of the road deepening the feeling that she was leaving her world behind. Uriel's directions led her to a mansion, deep in the woods, hidden away like a secret. It used to belong to a politician long arrested for tax evasion and she'd known it was abandoned. But it seemed like Uriel had renovated the place. Tall iron gates loomed ahead, flanked by guards in dark suits who eyed her with cold suspicion as she approached.
Cass rolled down her window, their stares making her uncomfortable. "Cassandra Pratt," she said, her voice steady despite the nerves gnawing at her gut.
One of the guards checked a list, then nodded, pressing a button. The gates creaked open, revealing a long driveway that wound through the dense trees before opening up to a sprawling mansion bathed in shadows. Lights flickered in the windows, casting an eerie glow over the grounds.
Cass's eyes darted toward the men patrolling the perimeter—discreet, but armed. He never did answer directly but this was enough evidence. It was too much security for a billionaire in the woods surrounding a sleepy town, but just enough security to protect Bravta.
Her walk to the door was shaky, her heart raced hummingbird fast in her chest, threatening to beat right out of her chest. She could hear the music filtering through the closed windows, hear the raucous laughter of the wealthy partygoers. She could smell them; vampires and, to her own surprise, werewolves, werepanthers, fae. There were multiple humans among them too.
It was a gathering of species of supernaturals, the kind that would have given Cass a heart attack if she'd encountered them this time last year. But now, she was walking straight to them.
A shaky hand pushed the doorbell.
A butler greeted her at the door, his face expressionless. Human, she noted. He took her coat and gestured for her to follow him into the auxiliary hall. She glanced around, her senses on high alert. Everything about the mansion screamed wealth; black marble, white trim, red upholstery. It was very obviously vampire-y, like Uriel had picked out the decor specifically because he thought it would be funny. Its old, polished perfection reminded her of his office; clean, sharp— hardly lived in.
"The Master will be with you shortly," the butler said, disappearing through a side door.
Cass paced the length of the hall, her nerves fraying with every second that ticked by. Her heart pounded in her chest, her pulse quickening at the thought of what was to come. She hadn't even made it to the main party yet, and she was already wondering if she was in over her head.
The door creaked open behind her. She turned to see Uriel, leaning casually against the frame, a slow, dangerous smile curving his lips. He was dressed in all black—impeccably tailored, as always—his eye glittering in the low light.
"Sladosti," he greeted, his voice sending a shiver down her spine. "You made it."
Cass offered a small smile, her nerves tightening as he crossed the room toward her. The cotton button-up moved against his skin like waves of ink as he walked. There was something different in his intense gaze tonight—something darker, more possessive.
"Of course," she said, her voice a little breathless. "You said not to be late."
Uriel chuckled softly, his gaze sweeping over her. "And you followed instructions." His voice dipped lower, a hint of amusement curling around the edges. "But the night's just getting started."
Instead of leading her toward the sound of music drifting from deeper inside the mansion, Uriel extended his arm and gestured toward a side corridor. "Come with me," he said, his voice laced with that same commanding edge that always made her knees weak.
Cass hesitated for a moment. "I thought we were going to the party?"
Uriel's grin darkened, his eye narrowing ever so slightly. "We can party later," he murmured, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space of the hall. "First, we have some business to take care of."
Cass swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as she followed him down the corridor. They passed several closed doors before he led her into a room at the far end of the hall. It was darker than she expected, the air thick with the scent of leather and something more intoxicating—something uniquely 'Uriel'.
Her breath hitched as he flicked on the lights and her eyes took in the room before her. The walls were painted a deep blue, almost black, the furniture following the same black and white with red trim decor of the rest of the house but that wasn't what had her staring. Her eyes immediately landed on the large bed in the center of the room, melded in the headboard were multiple hooks. Along the far wall were rows of whips, chains, and various leather paddles and floggers she could only guess the uses for. Arranged methodically around the room was sex furniture Cass had never before seen; an X shaped stand with pads and hooks, benches with cuffs, tables with padding. It was… overwhelming. And more than a little arousing.
Uriel leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. "You'll have time to get familiar with everything in here soon," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. "But first…"
He took her hand and led her to a smaller, adjoining room. When he flicked on the lights, Cass could see that it was a den of sorts, filled with shelves of books, a reading desk, and a plush red suede chair that sat at the center. He pressed a hand to her chest, gently shoving her back into the chair. Cass landed on it with a soft thud.
Uriel stood before her, his tall frame casting long shadows over her. The air between them was thick, electric. He leaned against the edge of the dark, polished desk, his eye fixed on her with an intensity that made the room feel smaller. More intimate. His black eyepatch shone in the low light.
"Do you have what I want, Ofitser?" he asked, a smirk curling the edges of his lips. His voice, low and commanding, sent a ripple of heat through her.
Cass raised an eyebrow, matching his smirk with one of her own as she reached into her bag and pulled out the crisp, folded contract. Although her heart was racing, she held it up between them, never breaking eye contact, challenging him with a quiet confidence. "How often did you practice that line?"
Uriel's eye narrowed slightly, but the amusement never left his face. He straightened, taking a slow step forward. "Often enough," he murmured, his voice darkening as he approached, "to make me want to punish you for that smart mouth."
Cass's heart stuttered, her pulse quickening as his words hit her right in her core. The contract felt heavier in her hands, the gravity of it all pulling at her. Her smirk faltered for just a second, but she masked it quickly, trying to keep her composure even though her body was already betraying her.
"Did you read through it? He asked. Then added quickly, "The segments that aren't the kink list."
"I did," she replied, her voice low.
She'd read it all. The roles and responsibilities. Safewords and signals. Rituals and Routine. Behaviors and expectations. Punishment and discipline. Everything detailed in the contract, she'd read it.
The Dominant will maintain control over the Submissive's pleasure, discipline, and guidance, aiming to enhance her understanding of her own desires and limits.
The Submissive will offer herself willingly to the Dominant's direction in all activities within the negotiated boundaries and terms.
Uriel's gaze flicked to the contract in her hands, then back to her face. The smirk was still there, only laced with a darkness that made Cass's breath catch in her throat.
"You know what this means, don't you?" he asked softly, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her.
Cass swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She knew. She knew exactly what it meant. Signing that contract would bind her to him—physically, emotionally, mentally. She would be his. Completely. Her pain, her pleasure, her desires; they would become property of Uriel Serpov, and he would wield them however he saw fit.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she held the document, her eyes flicking down to it for the briefest moment. She'd described Uriel as a monster. Jamee had called him an asshole. They both had reason to despise him, moreso Jamee than her. Yet, here she was, about to give it all up to this man who was just as much mystery as he was vampire.
"Before I sign the contract," she murmured, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart, "I have a few questions."
Uriel raised an eyebrow, his smirk softening into something more genuine, more amused. "Am I forever cursed to be subject to your questioning during important moments, Cassandra?"
He was pulling away, trying to avoid unnecessary delay. But Cass couldn't let it go. She had to pretend she wasn't panicking, even though they both knew the sound of her racing heartbeat gave her away.
She smirked, a glint of defiance flashing in her eyes. "Three questions," she offered.
"Three?" Uriel repeated, his voice lilting with amusement. "Very well." He stepped closer, his fingers trailing down the side of her neck, lingering at the pulse point that throbbed beneath her skin. "Ask your questions, Ofitser."
Cass took a deep breath. "How did you become a vampire?"
Uriel's hand stilled on her neck. His jaw tightened, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of something that wasn't amusement or control in his eyes. "That's not a story I enjoy telling," he said quietly, his voice losing some of its playfulness.
Crap. She'd have loved to know the answer to that but, judging by the way the muscles in his jaw were working, he wouldn't budge.
"Your left eye then, how did you lose it?"
Uriel reached up and traced the bottom of his eyepatch, his gaze contemplative. "That's another story I don't enjoy telling."
Cass raised an eyebrow. "How old are you?"
Uriel's lips quirked into a half-smile. "I'm thirty-five."
She shot him a look. "Really?"
His smile widened. "I don't age, Sladosti. But does it matter how old you think I am? I'm still the same man standing in front of you."
Cass pressed her lips together, biting back the frustration building in her chest. She was looking for more than just clever answers—she needed to understand him. She needed to know him.
"You've asked three questions already."
"You didn't really answer the first two," Cass shot back.
"Then what's your final question, Cassandra?" Uriel's fingers trailed down her throat, his touch setting her skin on fire.
Cass hesitated. The real question—the one that had been gnawing at her since her conversation with Jamee—hovered on her lips: 'What favor did you ask Jamee to do for you?' But she couldn't bring herself to ask it. Not yet. She wasn't sure she was ready for that answer.
Instead, she looked into his eye, searching for something deeper. "What do you want from me, Uriel Serpov?"
For a moment, Uriel's mask slipped, just slightly. The confident smirk faltered, and a flicker of something—something close to vulnerability—crossed his face. Cass wasn't sure if she imagined it, but it was there, if only for a heartbeat.
"What do I want from you?" His voice, though soft, carried a weight she hadn't heard before, as though the answer was something even he wasn't entirely sure of. His fingers brushed against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. "I believe I told you before. I want you, Cassandra. Every part of you. Your submission, your surrender, your trust."
His gaze darkened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Are you ready for that? Are you ready to be owned?"
Cass swallowed hard, her heart racing in her chest. She stared at the contract in her hands, the weight of the pen in her hand growing heavier. This was it. This was the moment. She could still walk away. She could still say no.
Her fingers twitched, almost refusing to move. Trust was a dangerous thing. It was fragile, breakable. And she was about to hand hers over to a man she barely knew, a man wrapped in layers of secrets. But something about Uriel, the way he commanded a room, the way he had pulled her into his orbit, made it hard to resist. Hard to walk away. She wasn't weak. She wasn't someone who cowered or submitted without question. But tonight? Tonight, she felt a pull stronger than reason. And maybe that scared her most of all.
She could still say no.
But deep down, she knew she wouldn't. She wasn't the type to back out. She never had been.
With a deep breath, she uncapped the pen and pressed it to the paper, signing her name in a firm, decisive stroke.
"Yes, Master."
As the ink dried, the air between them seemed to still. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the gravity of what had just happened settling into the room like a thick fog. Cass could feel her heartbeat in her throat, the pen still clutched in her fingers as though she could take it all back. But she knew she wouldn't even if she had the chance to.
A strange calm washed over her, settling into the pit of her stomach. It was done. She'd made her choice. There was no going back now—and strangely, the thought didn't scare her as much as she'd expected. Instead, there was a sense of weightlessness, as though surrendering had freed her from something she hadn't even realized was holding her down.
She could feel Uriel's eyes on her, watching, waiting. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his. He smiled—a dark, satisfied curve of his lips that sent a shiver down her spine.
His fingers brushed the side of her neck, trailing down slowly to rest just at her collarbone. His touch was featherlight, but it sent shockwaves through her body.
"Good girl," he whispered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You've made the right choice." He lingered for a moment, letting his words settle in her mind. The air in the room seemed to shift, held together only by the taut string that was the strain of the contract— the strain of her submission.
Uriel's satisfaction was palpable as he reached out, took the signed contract from the desk and slipped it into the pocket of his pants.
His fingers wrapped around her neck, squeezing just slightly enough for her to feel the pressure against her muscles. She lifted her head up, giving him easier access to his property.
"Now," he said, his voice smooth and dark, like silk laced with danger, "I believe it's time I reward you."